


Unlucky Eight's

by thepizzaman



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Army, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - World War II, Angst, Body Modification, Clint?, Fluff, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Tony Stark, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Multi, Time Skips, Tony is an army captain, Tony-centric, basically a bunch of au's smashed together, because i like him in those positions, just constantly hurting Tony, minor mentions of nazism, of leader ship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-05-27 05:01:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6270586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepizzaman/pseuds/thepizzaman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony's life has never been orthodox, normal in any manner. But it isn't until he's 8 that he can officially say - without any doubt - that everything goes to hell. the next 28 years aren't much better, and they never seam like they can get worse. Of course they always do.</p><p>Tony grows up, and fights, along side Steve and Bucky during World War II</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Construction is finally finished on this one chapter, didn't take too long thankfully. Not much has changed here but you might want to reread the chapter just so you don't get confused when it kicks off. I'm super excited to whip out this new plot!

Steve Rogers had been in and out of foster homes, hospitals, and orphanages his entire life. He didn’t have a lot of friends. Well, he didn’t have a lot of anything. His only official properties included an old, no longer functional, antique nine-millimeter pistol, the clothes off his back, a pair of running shoes three sizes too big for him, and an emergency inhaler. Everything else was transitory, temporary. That’s how everything seamed to be in his life; temporary. Nothing and no one stayed very long, they either lost interest in him or left him at the doorstep of the same orphanage in mid-town Brooklyn, three blocks away from his dead parent’s condemned apartment.

 

The only thing stationary in his life was Bucky. A buff little piece of shit he loved with all his heart; Bucky was his universal constant, his brother, his best friend, but perhaps most importantly: his partner in crime.

 

There was another thing Steve would always have: his fists. Despite being best friends with the guy who looked like he had a elementary school fight club running out of his basement; scrawny, asthmatic Rogers started most – no, _all_ – of the fights, physical and otherwise, that sent kids – Steve – to the hospital. Bucky, of course, was by his friends’ side the entire time, cleaning up messes and dragging him out of alleys. But no matter what, even if Bucky is always by his side, Steve always got in trouble. He was just small enough, just angry enough, to get under the skin of every bully in the Brooklyn area.

 

So yeah, that was Steve and Bucky for you: dynamic, trouble making, and mildly gay duo with a reputation that proceeded both of them. They didn’t lead great lives, they would never be A+ students, Bucky had a serious issue with authority and of course Steve was the unsuspecting, innocent, Perfect American Gentleman™ Steve Rogers everybody knew and hated. Well, almost everybody.

 

Eventually and quiet unexpectedly, there was Tony Stark. Yes, _the_ Anthony Edward Stark, also known as billionaire child genius to be, son of famous billionaire inventor Howard Stark, and he was officially attending the ratty, inner city Brooklyn Elementary. And best of all, he was in Steve’s class.

 

Bucky saw Tony Stark as trouble, Steve saw him as a wonderful opportunity to make an ally.

 

They where 8 at the time, well Steve and Tony where, Bucky was 8 and a half.

During lunch on Tony’s first day, Steve walked up to him with his plain tin lunch box and asked:

 

“Can I sit here?”

 

To which tony responded, “No.”

 

Steve sat down anyways.

 

“Didn’t you just hear me, sunshine?” Tony hissed in a scalding, very grown up tone, “I said No. Go sit with the rest of those fat-heads.” Tony nodded to the brutish gaggle of crusty, sticky 8-year-olds sitting at the other circular table.

 

Steve just grinned at him and unpacked his lunch onto the table, ignoring Tony’s disgusted response.

 

“My name’s Steve, wanna be friends?” Steve tried to smile, but his crooked grin and split lip must’ve thrown the other boy off. Maybe it was his scrawniness and the slight wheeze to his breath, maybe it was the smelly ethnic lunch he made for himself. Whatever it was, Tony put his sandwich back in his paper bag and got up to leave, pushing his chair in and retaliated.

 

“No, leave me alone.”

 

The bell rang, lunch was over. Steve didn’t see Tony in any of his classes, or in the hallways, or in the courtyard. He disappeared, and Steve could find it in his heart to miss that callous, rude person.

 

The next day at lunch, Steve made a point to approach Tony, sitting all by himself, a second time, only now he was puffed up, on edge. The ghost of a bruise was fading on his right cheek.

Steve approached the table, storming past the whooping group of children at the sight of little Stevie’s ‘game face’.

 

He stood, looming as best his short, scrawny stature would let him and glared bullets down at the other boy who was effectively ignoring him, tilting a maze board around absentmindedly.

 

“Can I help you, Thomas?”

 

“My name is Steve.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

Steve’s temper started to scald, making him blush and his knuckles wrap tight, turn white, and dig little moons into his palm.

 

“why are you being so rude?”

 

“why are you snappin’ your cap about it, sticky?” Tony whirled to face him, “I said I don’t want to be your friend, leave me alone.”

 

The boy stood, Steve squared himself up but Tony looked at him incredulously and walked right past Steve. He didn’t bother to look at him, didn’t jump back at the raised fists, and didn’t even flinch. Tony just….got up and left, and didn’t look back.

 

The other children watched him go with a sickening grin like an animal scoping out it’s prey.

 

Steve comes to realize there’s a reason Tony sits alone at lunch, after all, one would think the tallest, smartest, richest sass master would climb the food chain like a speed bump and rise to the top. Instead, he sunk deeper to the bottom than Steve did.

 

Tony didn’t go out at recess because the other kid’s had abandoned tormenting Steve and Bucky in favor of fresh meat.

 

“I’ve heard he’s kind of an ass.” Bucky commented through an apple, sitting on the dusty courtyard ground watching Tony attempt to meander his way over the 7 foot fence around the school, thinking he was undetected.

 

He fell, got up, brushed himself off, and started again.

 

“He’s been bouncing around schools for years now.”

 

“He doesn’t seam to get along with the other kids as easy as I thought he was.”

Bucky scoffed, munched his apple and agreed.

 

“Can’t imagine why.”

 

Tony fell. Got up. Brushed himself off. Started again.

 

“He’s such a dud, too. His dad seams like such a cool guy.”

 

“yeah, my mom and I went to an expo a while back. He got a car to float, coolest fuckin' thing I ever saw.”

 

Tony fell. Got up. Brushed himself off. Started again.

 

“Bucky! Language!” Steve punched his arm, Bucky rolled back and rested his head on his hand, rolling a few marbles around in the other.

 

“Gotta give ‘im credit, he sure don’t know when to quit.”

 

Tony fell, this time, he rolled over, lied silently in the dirt for longer than normal and screamed. Not a screech of fear or pain, but a loud, deep shout of frustration.

He got up, didn’t bother to brush off the dirt then practically picked himself up and threw himself feet first over the 7-foot fence. Steve watched as he landed with a small shout on the other side, scrambling to recover from the fall. A group of bullies came charging up to the fence just as he reached the other side, clanging and kicking and growling at him though the fence. The brave boy stood as close to them as he could get without getting his clothes grabbed and smirked. It was a bright, gracious, devious smile that Steve could see glinting with pride from all the way across the yard.

 

“Did he make it?” Bucky asked, opening one eye and squinting up at his friend.

 

The bell rang, neither of them moved, but slowly and surely, like dust in their tiny little brains, the bullies dissipated for classes. Tony started running in the direction of the city.

 

“yeah, yeah he did.”

 

\--

 

Tony was at school the next day sitting alone, sporting a downtrodden expression that made Steve’s eyes hurt. He went over to the table and sat down.

 

“Oh my god, how many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone before you get the point?”

 

Steve clenched his teeth and controlled his temper. He didn’t grace Tony with a response.

 

“Hey, sunshine, did ya hear me?” Tony got close enough so Steve he could smell him. He smelled like motor oil, like fire and fresh cut grass, like peanut butter and dirt. “I got here first.”

 

Generally accepted rule of toddler warfare: If a person get’s ‘there’ first, they claim that spot.

 

“You looked lonely.” Steve mumbled.

 

Tony looked personally offended. He leaned back in his chair and was about to spit another undoubtedly rude and insensitive, confrontational comment when Steve interrupted.

 

“This was my table way before you ever got here.” Tony’s jaw clicked shut, “I used to sit here alone during lunch, technically this is my table. You just came in here and decided to be alone at it as well. You don’t have to be my friend, but I’m not surrendering my table.”

 

Established toddler warfare rule number two: if a person A claims an object before person B even got there (even if person B claims to get there fist) and can stake a legitimate claim with witnesses to said claim, it automatically belongs to person A.

 

This was Steve’s table, and it was Steve’s right to claim it. Not even Tony Stark could argue that logic. So he said nothing, but he didn’t leave either. Tony went back to his game and left Steve to his own.

 

When Steve looked up, even under his guarded expression, longer hair and dipped chin, Steve could see he was smiling.

 

\--

 

 

That day during recess, Steve came barreling out of the class room, a group of nitwit bullies at his heals, he made leeway for his normal meeting spot with Bucky: the bench under the cool but stuffy shade of an age old sick crab apple tree.

 

Today there was something different, because when Steve came tumbling around the corner, someone else was in his spot.

 

Bucky let some other kid sit in his spot? Outraged, Steve stomped into view, ready to fight, and was greeted by the bright, laughing figure of Tony Stark.

 

“Stevie.” Bucky jumped up, pulling Steve over, “Tony is actually a real gas. Come on!”

 

Bucky was covered in bloody remnants of a fight, as was Tony - sitting with the evidence of any fun-having completely eradicated from his face. Bucky gave Steve that devious yet faithful grin that told Steve _trust me_.

 

Steve looked over at Tony, sitting in his spot, looking up at him with guarded suspicion, _from **his** spot _ relaxed but also ready to run like hell if the situation called for it.

 

He and Bucky went to sit down, Steve took the ground and let Tony sit in his spot, only for today.

 

Only for today turned into only for the week, and only for the week turned into only for the month.

 

\---

 

Tony, Steve, and Bucky became immortal friends. Steve and Bucky came to know Tony Stark better than the press, and perhaps better than his mother and father. Tony didn’t act like a kid. Kids where supposed to bicker immaturely and play ball outside or marbles in the dirt. He did none of these things. He talked in a business like manner - insulted that way, too. He conducted himself like an adult and acted as if it was a requirement to have some inch of professionalism at all times. He always had to come out on top, or have the last word.

 

Howard was a topic of avoidance much like Steve’s parents, and no one had an issue keeping it on the back burner. Tony was always sporting bruises, it wasn’t uncommon for parents to occasionally smack their kids around during that time period. Hell, even the teachers could hit and scold. But tony always looked like he was fresh out of a fight. Although both friends made a pact not to confront Tony about it, they made it severely clear that they would stand up for him and defend him should he ask for the help.

They where friends after all and friends trusted each other. Only tony had never trusted a single person his entire life.

 

Steve and Bucky tried to train him out of this.

 

Bucky and tony found themselves in a complicated relationship Steve didn’t understand. They would bicker and fight then five seconds later be laughing and playing. They would fight then cure, grapple then cuddle – it was an unusual but amusing form of affection.

 

Tony had the maturity of a goose with Steve, as if he was emotionally handling a five year old; he treated Steve with kind fairness and appreciation whilst simultaneously acting like a complete ass. Tony and Steve grew together by their advantages and disadvantages, leaning on each other and fighting for one another. They where a team.

 

Certain nights where spent watching the open stars – once the city lights where out they shown brilliantly. Days off they would all go to the theater together. They watched the world around them crumble with poverty and the winds of change run dry with hostility. Steve and Bucky vowed beyond their years they would join the militia, it was Steve's dream and of course wherever Steve went Bucky was sure to follow. Tony spent years trying to talk them out of it. He’d seen what war does to people, he’d seen the dirty uncaring business side of it and he was expected to gather himself and head the company that bought and sold death. He swore just as much as Steve and Bucky that he would never take part in it. If he could help it.

 

All three of them could take on the world together. Or at least - they thought.

 

\--

 

 

Not too long after declaring his hatred for Steve’s diligence towards the service, Tony began attempting vigorously to destroy their friendship. Being rude and pig – headed, even going so far as to hit Bucky square in the jaw. he tried to climb over the fence again once he thought Steve and Bucky weren’t looking, got the unholy shit beat out of him by the bullies.

 

Steve tried to talk to him but Tony would have none of it.

 

On the last day of school, Tony didn’t bother to show up for school and that was the last Steve or Bucky would hear of him for a long time. He never came back to the bullshit Brooklyn elementary school, never showed his face on the TV, never drove up in his dad’s fancy car.

 

Tony Stark, quite suddenly, didn’t exist. Steve thinks Bucky worries more than he does. He figures Howard Stark got tired of Brooklyn and seated Tony back into posh society where he belonged. After all, what else could possibly happen?

 

 

11 years later

 

 

Steve is sitting in Bucky’s house retrieving the newspaper– because Bucky was an old fucking man – when some actually horrifying news graced his eyes.

 

**_America officially declares war on Germany_ **

 

Steve’s stomach dropped. He’d been trying to join the army for years. His first thought was that this was finally his chance; America would need all the soldiers he could get. His second thought was to look at Bucky, sitting gently in front of the radio. Bucky joined the military reserves years ago. He would be called to action in less than a week. Without Steve.

 

“What’re we gonna do, Buck?”

 

Steve couldn’t help but thinking of Tony, his father, Howard, was the main provide of weapons to the American military. That would be Tony job soon. What would happen to the Stark family now? What would happen to Tony?

 

“Pray?”

 

They both resigned to sit there on Bucky’s couch, the warm summer breeze blowing in from the open window, brushing away the clean white curtains.

 

“What do you think Tony’s doing right now?” Steve asked in a hushed tone, almost afraid to speak.

 

Neither of them had seen, heard, or talked about Tony Stark for years. Neither of them forgot the kid though, not by a long shot. They had become best friends, they even had a picture together, taken at a carnival what felt like a million years ago.

 

They where kids then. There’s nothing left of those kids now. Now there’s was a war on their doorstep, now they where alone, sitting on the cusp of a world at war.


	2. How It Occurs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> while I figure out the next few chapters, here's a 'mini' chapter feat. how Bucky adopts Tony Stark.

Tony was not happy to be in Brooklyn – go figure. Is anyone ever happy to be in Brooklyn? Tony doubts it. His father thinks it’s a good exercise for him, to be amongst the ‘common people’. Therapeutic or something. Get rid of his bad attitude. What a joke.

 

It only made it worse.

 

\--

 

Tony was doing a recon mission on the dusty schoolyard, all on the look out for – well, he wasn’t sure really. Danger? After the first kidnapping he stopped waltzing around so easy and started treading lightly, he was always acutely aware of his surroundings. He admitted he didn’t mind the attention of the kidnapping; it made him feel important. And of course that’s one thing the son a rich genius always needs. Here the kids where low and harsh and they lived dirty, difficult lives. They certainly didn’t give a fuck and a half about him, which meant Tony couldn’t manipulate them into idolizing him. So the opposite happened: they hated him.

 

Nothing new, really.

 

So here he was: scoping. There must be someplace around here he can hide, just breath for a moment. Tony came strolling around the corner to the back of the school. Stretching out in front of him was the alley, just beyond the fence, that led mystically into the neighborhood. A tree sat in the middle of a patch of dead grass.

 

Sitting under the tree, lounging on a bench was a boy. Before tony could turn away he shot straight up and shouted: “hey! Stark!”

 

Tony tried to make a run for it but almost as soon as he could turn there was a hand on his shoulder tugging him back.

 

“Listen I know you’re new here but this is mine and Steve’s part of the courtyard so don’t go getting any ideas ok– what? What are you looking at huh? I’m talking to ya here buddy.”

 

His accent hung thick but Tony couldn’t care less. He was more focused on the rather large group of oversized children gathering on the horizon, their eyes set on where he and James where standing.

 

“Yeah, we can arguing about ‘ya turf’ later but maybe you can show off your macho skills while we wait.”

 

James looked taken back, “what’re tryina start somethin’?”

 

Tony forcefully turned the other boy around and smirked at James’s sudden turn of attitude as he prepped to run, pushing into Stark and bolting.

 

Tony felt the breath of one of the bullies on his heals as him and James where chased from the field around the alley where the tall fence turned into a small gate and they easily busted it open and ended up in a dead end trash alley.

 

“Oh great there fly boy I thought you said this is your turf don’t you have any ditch routes genius?” Tony shouted, getting skippy on the thought of getting beat up not once, not twice, but three times in one day.

 

“Shut it richy rich.” James hissed. Just about to make an attempt to climb into the dumpster when Anderson and three others appeared gasping.

 

“well well well what do we have here?” Anderson started, swinging his pudgy little fists at his sides.

 

“the posh and the sewer rats teaming up eh? Becoming friends are we?” another growled.

 

“wait.” James said, faking confusing, holding his hand up in Anderson’s face, “you’re saying I’m the sewer rat? I must’ve gotten confused then because if I’m a sewer rat than that would make you all what?” he swirled around to look at tony, a convincing glint of mischievousness. Tony played along.

 

“The shit that fills the sewers maybe? You, the shit.” Tony says as he saunters forward to Anderson, “the rest of you, hmm, the flies I would say.”

 

This ticked them off and one of Anderson’s goonies pounced on him with a animalistic shout - fist first.

 

It was a blur after that. Tony recognized being punched, he recognized shouting and turmoil and dust up his nose. He was surprised to feel James tugging him up off the ground, fighting back and…protecting him? But then again it was hard to tell exactly what was happening, it was a three against one fight and Tony was pretty sure he could recognize not being on receiving but the fighting end - for once.

 

James had pinned Anderson under him and was punching and slamming the hammer of his fist into the poor kids face. Tony had been pushed to the ground, bleeding from a split lip and what would turn into black eye but the attacks had halted for trying to pull James off Anderson.

 

“Hey come on kid let up!” one whined.

 

“Yeah man get off!” another yelled, pulling at James’s coat.

 

“Fuck. Off.” James whispered, silencing even the wind and settling the stirred dust with nothing more than two words and a death glare that sent all the heat from Tony's blood running cold.

 

Anderson shrimped out from beneath him and the other three whisked off around the corner with the sound of the bell like kicked puppies, no doubt to go whine and yip and tattle to the teacher. James, kneeling on the ground, hair strewn about him glanced over at Tony, laying on the ground propped up on an elbow looking star struck.

 

“Awesome.”

 

\--

 

James offered Tony a wad of spare bandages made from leaves and a spot under the crab apple tree. They sat under it in total silence.

 

“Thanks.” Tony tried to say, James nods at him.

 

“So you’re Tony Stark are ya?” James said after a painfully long bought of staring at the birds.

 

“Unfortunately. You’re James, right? Barnes?”

 

“Call me Bucky.”

 

No one but Steve is allowed to call him that. But James doesn’t say anything about that.

 

“Bucky, then. Nice to meet you.”

 

“Nice to meet you, too.” Bucky snickers, replaced leaf bandages over his nose, “sewer rats and posh city huh?”

 

“Can’t have one without the other.” Tony remarks.

 

“What’s the posh city doing in a crappy Brooklyn school?”

 

“My dad. Suppose it might be good for me, fix up my shit attitude.”

 

“How’s that going for you?”

 

“Terribly.” They both laughed softly out of both irony and pity for each other.


	3. It's The War After All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's living in a shitty apartment in London, called to active duty and sent on a top secret mission. He promised himself this wouldn't be his life yet here he is - living the damn dream. Bucky shows his face after twelve years and Peggy is the greatest Aunt ever. Meanwhile Howards' being an ass and Rhodey is awesome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this redeems the kind of damn shit disaster the first chapter ended up being. This is a lot longer for some reason but it sets up a lot more background.

Tony woke to the sound of a bottle smashing. It took a second for him to collect his senses – lying on his back on the living room couch. A city smog filled the room on top of old cigarette smoke and post-bender haze, dried tears glued his eyes shut and the issue cap was dipped over his eyes sparing them the foggy-window filtered sun. A car horn blared outside and shouting from the neighbors screeching children amplified his already pounding headache. Pounding, like distant heartbeats, continued on and on gradually getting louder and clearer. He rolled onto his side squinting to see glass littering the floor by the dinning table on top of the already filthy apartment.

 

The pounding got louder, shouting followed. Tony barely registered it as a rather eager and angry visitor at his front door.

 

“Alright, alright I’m coming!” Tony rolled to lift himself off the couch, his cap falling to the ground next to a small clump of bloody tissues.

 

“Up we go.” He groaned and sneezed, splattering blood all over his clean white shirt. He whispered a small curse to himself and quickly shed his shirt, abandoning it in the middle of the floor and quickly grabbing another one he barely managed to get over his head.

 

Eventually he managed his way to the door, swinging it open to reveal a tall slender black man in a well pressed and rigid RAF uniform, cap under arm like a proper gentleman, mouth agape mid shout.

 

“Close the door behind you.” Is all Tony said, turning to gather more paper for his freshly bleeding nose.

 

“It’s still bleeding?” the man asked, entering without a word and slamming the door behind him, immediately began picking clothes and trash off the floor.

 

Tony groaned in response, going back to plop down on the couch again with his head back and his feet hanging off the edge, “its just the altitude.”

 

“Tell that to your black eye.” The man scoffed as he went to start slamming dirty pots together in the tiny kitchen, pushing aside makeshift walls made of sheets between areas of the one room apartment.

 

“What do you want Rhodes?”

 

The man – Rhodes – threw a pile of dirty clothes into a corner already stuffed with them and went to sit on the chair to Tony’s right, sinking way too deep into the chair due to a broken spring in the seat Tony refused to get fixed on account of how hilarious it was to see Rhodes fall into it every time he came over.

 

 “Your pops came to get me.” Rhodes responded, lighting a cigarette. “Says he’s been trying to call you to active duty for weeks with no response.”  


“That really what he wants?” Tony lifted his hand behind him towards Rhodes, requesting a puff. Rhodes handed it to him silently.

 

“Says he’s got a special assignment for you. Says it’s new, different. Top secret.”

 

“Howards' entire life is top secret. What makes this any different.”

 

“Nazis, Tony.” Rhodes hissed back, snatching the cig back and used way too much energy trying to get up from the broken chair. He grabbed Tony's jacket off the back of the dinning table and threw it at him. He went and opened the curtains causing Tony to make an unholy sound between a screech and a groan. Rhodey stared at him with his hand on his hips with a very hands-on-my-hips expression.

 

“Alright, don’t snap your cap over it buddy.” Tony rose painfully slowly, sniffing the last bit of blood back up his nose while dusting off his cap.

 

“You look like shit.” Rhodey commented.

 

“Thank you. Breakfast?”

 

Tony wandered into the kitchen, throwing around a couple of pans around full of anything but food. A car battery sat by the sink, an unfinished bundle of wires was sitting in a rice bowl, a long wire followed the walls all the way from the door to the couch, and a stack full of bills was half burnt in a frying pan. Tony tossed the remnants in the trash and cleaned the surface with his sleeves before setting it back down like nothing happened.

 

Rhodey, thank god for him, was used to it by now. He only went to slump down at the table and start reading the newspaper, paying little mind to the mess of the apartment.

 

“What you been up to since we last saw each other, Tones?” Rhodey asked, his voice short and cautious.

 

These days it was getting harder and harder for the two to converse like they did in high school. The war affected them both in different ways. Rhodey was a part of the only black division of the RAF -he was essentially a rarity. He told Tony he just felt serving his country was what he was meant to do so when the USAF wouldn’t take him he immediately up and left for England. His determination bothered Tony more than he let on. Tony couldn’t bear to loose more friends to this fight. They lost contact for a while, but after Howard forced Tony to join they where back in constant contact.

 

Rhodey’s deployment schedule and Tony’s lets-get-a-drink-and-catch-up schedule where in an everlasting conflict, however. They did the best they could under the situation.

 

“Got a promotion. Did a few recon missions. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

 

“A promotion?” Rhodey said, surprise leaking out of every letter.

 

“Yeah, Captain of the 105th.”

 

“Congratulations, Tony.”

 

Tony scoffed, scrapping the thankfully barely burnt eggs off the pan and slamming them down in front of his friend.

 

“What like it wasn’t handed to me.”

 

“Tony, Don’t do that.” Rhodey looked down at the dirty plate, and opted out, choosing to ignore it, “you worked for it, and you deserve it. You belong in leadership roles.”

 

“Sure, Rhodey. Whatever you say.”

 

They – well Tony – ate on in silence. Rhodey finished reading the newspaper and Tony fiddled with the dead flowers acting as a centerpiece. When he finished he waltzed to the kitchen where he whistled at an innate little claw hooked to the wall. At the sound of the whistle it whirred to life, chirping and making grabbing motions towards Tony and his dirty plate.

 

“Sink.” Tony said.

 

The claw took the plate from tony and proceeded to smash it on the counter. Tony looked down at it emotionlessly. The claw made an almost disappointed noise before it wilted.

 

“Its ok, you’ll get it eventually.” Tony patted the arm and switched it off.

 

“You still talk to those things?” Rhodey mocked.

 

“It’s a work in progress, Rhodey.” Tony insisted, “one day they’ll call it artificial Intelligence.”

 

“We need real intelligence in this world before we can achieve feats of fake intelligence.”

 

“Well butterfingers is a good start.”

 

Rhodey paused folding the news paper to look at tony with contempt, “butterfingers.”

 

“Yeah cause he, ya know.” Tony motioned to the one of many piles of broken plates, “drops…things a lot. Don’t we have somewhere to be?”

 

Tony left the apartment first surprisingly - in some kind of imaginary rush. Rhodey locking the door behind him hiding the spare key behind the loose metal eight over the front of the door.

 

“Tell me more about this top secret business.” Tony said, pulling his friend away from glaring at his neighbors.

 

Rhodey explain something vaguely along the lines of ‘secret base’ ‘Nazis’ and ‘covert’ but Tony wasn’t listening, picking out key words and the hum of Rhodes words through the air. He was focused too closely on the ground his feet where catching by some miracle, the buzzing of city life and clanging of every tiny sound or movement catching his hung-over brain off guard and tossing it around like a vulnerable sack of gelatin. He looked up only to avoid people on the street and to keep from looking like he was stumbling.

 

Two people came out of the alley as they passed it, one in military get up and the other a short slim boy with his clothes practically hanging off him. The military man had one arm hanging over the boys shoulder, laughing.

 

Tony caught the bigger mans shoulder, causing both of them to stop for a millisecond to come eye to eye.

 

Tony’s heart stopped. Those soft brown eyes glinted with some unsettling familiarity, they widened a tad as if there was some mutual recognition. Tony turned away and huddled closer to Rhodey while the other turned with the boy still under his arm and watched Tony’s retreating back.

 

“Bucky, Buck. I cant breath.” The boy growled, forcing his way out from underneath Bucky’s arm. “What’re you looking at?”

 

“Nothin’ jus' thought I was saw someone.”

 

“Who?”

 

Bucky waved it away, “no one I guess.”

 

\--

 

“What the hell happened to your face?” Peggy insisted, grabbing Tony’s chin and observing the dried blood on his nose and blooming black eye.

 

“Bloody nose.”

 

“Again?”

 

“It’s just the altitude.”

 

“Sure.”

 

Tony tore his face away and tried to ward off his aunt’s spit covered thumb as Howard and Rhodey buzzed around in the background surrounding the war table, planning and conversing.

 

“Stop fussing Peggy we have business to do.” Howard shouted, his low and ageing voice causing a small flinch on Tony’s side and a sympathetic shoulder rub from Peggy.

 

“My little boy all grown up now.” Peggy whispered, a little tear barely holding its own in her eyes and her lip quivering as she adjusted his unkempt uniform.

 

“What’s this all about?” Tony said, “why are you getting all emotional on me, Peg?”

 

“We have a mission for you.” Howard growled, strolling over with a certain swagger and contempt, refusing to look his son in the eyes. “you might not like it.”

 

“I rarely like anything you tell me to do, Howard.” Came Tony’s clipped response, with a smile.

 

“There’s a camp about 100 miles behind enemy lines, France.” Howard invited tony to view the war table, on it a map of west Europe. “From what intelligence has gathered we’re looking at a human experimentation lab. Messing around with chemical warfare devices, new age weapons, energy sources and even body modifications. They experiment on POW’s we want you to infiltrate the camp, rescue our troops – for the moral – and gain footing in the territory.”

 

“Why am I going?” Tony asked.

 

“You’re a divisions captain, Tones.” Rhodey says like he’s reminding a child their age.

 

“Why my division, what are you looking for, Howard?”

 

“There a technology in development.” Howard sighed, glancing up at a disgruntled Peggy, her expression stained with disapproval. “A power source. Sustainable and completely independent. It can charge anything with little to no cost, including jets and bombers, guns, medic, with no intake or outtake. We’re wary of it.”

 

“You should be. You’re describing an arc reactor.” Tony whispered. Howard was fishing for a response to cake all the blame on Tony.

They had been working on this new sustainable enegery together for years. Only now was it conning into development and reality. A few weeks ago they had a security breach in the main lab where the prototypes where being kept. One blue print was stolen. Regardless, there was no way the enemy could do all of what the Stark's had been working on for years in only two weeks.

Could they?

 

“What’s that now?” Rhodey declared, defensive standing besides his shorter friend with a look of accusatory disbelief.

 

“We’ve been – well I’ve been – looking into – no not looking into creating – a technology called arc reactor. It’s a core power that could potentially replace all modes of power production including oil-fueled engines and coal. Its an amazing device, capable of sending light weight air crafts far over the speed of sound.”

 

A momentary silence fell over the room.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Rhodey asked.

 

“It was on a need to know basis.” Tony started.

 

“You didn’t need to know.” Finished Howard.

 

There was a long pause as both Howard and Rhodey – two very different figures in Tony's life – stared each other down silently. Rhodey towered over Tony in a protective stance on the offense of Howard.

 

“For cripes sake, stand down!” Peggy shouted finally, placing a firm hand on Howard’s shoulder.

 

“You know this will be dangerous.” Peggy said, addressing Tony as the other men in the room moved off.

 

“It’s a war Peggy.” Tony whispered, “It’s always dangerous.”

 

“This is different, this is a special operation. You’re going to go in there and face technology far beyond our own, like bringing a rock to a gunfight! How could Howard do this to his own son, its practically a death sentence!” Peggy embraced him and Tony welcomed the comfort but didn’t reciprocate; only melting into the hug like butter on bread. He was often rendered a shy puppy in front of his aunt. She was more like his mother than his mother was – she raised him. Now she had to watch him fight in this endless, gruesome war.

 

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

 

“James?”

 

“My troops.” Tony said tenderly, whispering the word my like it was a curse, “This is as much a death sentence for me as it is for them, if not more. It’s been hard enough on them as it is, this is gonna be like the straw to break the camels back.”

 

“Oh look at you.” Peggy fussed, “how selfless you’ve grown. I’m so proud of you, poppin.”

 

“Thanks aunt Peggy.”

 

“You two done?” came Howard’s intrusive howl. Both him and Rhodes stood by the tent entrance sharing the same bored expression.

 

\--

Tony faced his division with a solemn face, the map behind him covered in red marks and symbols.

 

“I wouldn't be asking you to do a mission of this caliber if I didn't believe you could handle it.” Tony sighed, “This won't be like anything we've faced before. This is our chance to hit the Nazi's right where it hurts. Without this lab they won't be able to continue their weapons development. With the arms race as aggressive as it is, without the ability to keep developing, they'll be sticks in the mud within the month. You’ve got till 0600 hours. Dismissed.”

 

The room erupted in low conversation and rustle as the area cleared like there was a fire. Tony stayed behind, gathering papers and talking with Howard off to the side. He spent another three or four hours going over spec and Intel, routing then rerouting every ambush, retreat path, entrance and exit there could possibly be, trying hard to ignore the distant sound of fighting.

 

He was so buried with his work he didn’t notice someone had been standing behind him for who knows how long, trying desperately to get his attention.

 

“Stark!”

 

Tony jumped, looking up to meet the same soft brown eyes he’d seen earlier in the city. His heart did that thing again where it totally stopped beating and he felt like he was going to die.

 

“Bucky.” Tony stated with the same short and exasperated tone he usual used with Howard. Great - as if this day couldn't get any smoother.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...good?
> 
> by the way, where's Steve?


End file.
